Mark of the Huntress
by Waffleface
Summary: A young Ionian man is stranded in the Kumungu jungle on the way to Bandle City. How will he escape? What dangers await in this little-explored territory?


_Well, here it goes. At the urging of our favorite erotica writer, Waddlebuff, I have started my own series of first-person one-shots._

_Any similarities to his series are completely intentional._

_Here goes!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends or any associated characters or locations._

_They are the property of Riot Games._

_Sexual content awaits! What else did you expect?_

_Cover image courtesy of Saehral from deviantart. Check out her work if you get the chance._

* * *

The night air is heavy with mist, hanging over the jungle trees like a messy, white blanket draped over mossy green bedposts. A cloud of angry insect round the corner of a tree in front of me, and they pass over my head mere seconds before I manage to throw myself onto the ground. They pass on, buzzing angrily through the wet trees.

A thousand tiny insects swarm around me, avoiding the unwelcome intrusion upon their soil, but none so much as touch me-for what reason, I cannot say. Perhaps they can understand when something does not belong.

I push myself up groggily, and a vine promptly swings down and clocks me across the face. Stars explode across my already-hazy vision as I spin dizzily, senses swimming, before falling backwards.

Fully expecting to once again meet the ground, I'm unpleasantly surprised by a mossy tree trunk. The back of my head collides with a hollow _clonk, _dislodging several chunks of heavy moss.

My head is suddenly bombarded with muted ringing. My skull feels numb and hot-but it doesn't hurt. Probably because my vision is starting to fade to black as my eyes swing shut of their own accord.

A final, ironic message springs into my head as my consciousness slips away.

Dammit, why'd I have to end up _here_?

* * *

Once I became old enough to speak, my mother told me about my father.

A man I had never met. A man I had never heard about from anyone other than her. A man who, with his lifestyle, was probably dead.

Not that I really cared. By all accounts, he was better off that way.

_"A man like him had no place being here, in Ionia. Calling him self-assured would be a monumental understatement. His sense of superiority was undeserved and unworthy. An aversion of the selflessness Demacians have demonstrated in the past."_

At this point, she stopped and sighed, halting the advancement of the fish-bone comb through her silver hair, her kimono-clad arms falling limp by her sides.

She was still a young woman, barely twenty-nine. She must have barely been eighteen when she met my father.

_"Still...I was young, naive, and untrained. I was attracted to that kind of confidence."_

Another sad shake of her head.

_"Twins. Here, in Ionia, bearing and raising two children is one of the greatest accomplishments a mother can do. Then _he_ came back."_

She clenched her fist, slamming her palm down on the bamboo table. The clay mugs resting on the furniture shook violently.

_"I hadn't seen him for months-not that I wanted to. Once I woke up afterwards, I cursed him in every way possible. But for him to show up hours after you and your brothers came into this world, and demand to take one of you with him? It was not merely disrespectful, it was worthy of punishment! He even had the gall to have his 'wife' on his shoulder when he came!"_

Her voice had started cracking, and I'd comforted her, handing her a chunk of wheat bread for her to swallow.

_"I told him that he couldn't do this. He didn't deserve it. But he wouldn't listen. He took your brother-your eldest by almost an hour-and was gone. Even today, I still pray that he has not been corrupted by your father's 'influence."_

That was the first-and last-time she ever mentioned him.

But like I said-I didn't care.

Besides that outburst, she was a wonderful mother . She spent her days meditating amongst the one of the Holiest temples on the island-the Placidium, home of the legendary Starchild, Champion of Ionia and the League. Bare necessities were free for the families of individuals who worked as priests or monks.

To this effect, I was provided food and our house was repaired without us needing to so much ask. I didn't even see a gold coin until I was twelve years old.

Once I turned six, as was mandatory for Ionian citizens, I was enrolled in school, which consisted mostly of learning how to meditate and write, as well as long walks down various gardens.

The classes were dull, if short. Oftentimes, the teacher might arrive, plant himself (or herself) onto their cushion, cross their legs, and close their eyes-a signal for us to do the same. We remained in this position for as little as two minutes, and then class was dismissed.

If I had free time, I'd generally take a trip into the woods. It was always uneventful, though I might catch a glimpse of the silvery-white fur of a legendary nine-tailed fox, if I was lucky. Most of the time, though, I was alone in my meditations.

Unfortunately, graduation was tempered with tragedy. Mother was never the strongest individual, and when she ate rice that had been infected by a dead fox, she never recovered. After two days of aching pains, vomiting, and loud groaning, she was gone. I didn't attend the ceremony, as only priests could oversee funeral rites.

I needed to step up to the next stage of education: choosing a monastery, which was a fairly easy proposition, as I was already incredibly familiar with the Placidium. I had never been terribly imposing, physically, so most of the other monasteries would have been a poor fit for me. However, the idea of exercise and learning through meditation had me sold.

I was quite pleased to discover that my class (there were eleven other children, eight females and three males) would be taught by none other than the Starchild herself.

Despite my lack of interest in many principles of Ionian culture, she was still an object of reverence for me, like all other Ionians. Her compassion, healing arts, and conviction in defending the Ionian people had made her a goddess-in more ways than one.

In spite her pupil-less eyes, hooved legs, and the elegantly curved horn atop her forehead, she did not look the least bit alien to me. The obvious appeal of her robe, both form-fitting and cut to expose the sides of her full, round chest, was nicely complimented by her wonderfully exotic purple skin. Her body, especially her hips, formed a perfect hourglass silhouette. Despite the centuries of ardor she had endured, Soraka's delicate, concerned grace of movement perfectly communicated her beauty and wisdom.

In the classroom, she lived up to and surpassed all my expectations. Her every word was a blessing, a reassurance that she was present and encouraging. I recall one instance, where she pointed out a flaw in my attempts to infuse my body with energy through a difficult set of meditations.

_"Calm yourself, young one. Your concerns cloud your ability to look within yourself. Release your worries."_

Her every word was perfectly serene, practically bathing all who heard it in sentiments of relief and pleasant sleepiness.

Fortunately, I avoided both staring at her (I both feared and loved her-in a follower's sense-too much to disrespect her like that) or falling asleep.

Contrary to what Demacia would have you believe, priestesses, monks, and other purveyors of Ionian religion are not required to be virgins or celibate.

In fact, sexual experience was seen as a gateway to further enlightenment, due to the connection it offered between two people, and it was tolerated, even encouraged, in some temples. To this effect, there was at least one tawdry bar in each village, though the larger, holier cities were void of such public pleasures.

But I digress. In any event, I had been stricken by a bout of adolescent rebelliousness after having successfully completed my training at the Placidium. I was given, as were all the other students, a full year to 'find my path in enlightenment, whether it lead into Ionia or into the hearts of its enemies'.

My friends wanted me to stay. I wanted to explore the world, to see if I might enjoy a different city. In a mild huff, I (regrettably) declared that I could do what I wished and left Ionia immediately.

Being the rebellious youngster that I am, I set my sights on Bandle City, home of the strange and innovative yordles.

I had only seen a few of them in my time of the island, and they had been resourceful, upbeat individuals, often bringing strange and wonderful ideas and technologies with them.

I recall one in particular-obviously young, for a yordle, he and his friends traveled in a cart that carried goods from Bandle City. I was fascinated by the whirring contraptions and gizmos.

I felt that there was much to learn from such intelligent beings, so I booked a Zeppelin to Bandle City.

The wiry, boil-ridden officer took one look at me, with my proud, upright posture, monk's robes, and sparse belongings, and promptly threw me into the lowest hold possible on the ship.

I managed to avoid getting a ratty cot, but it was a wake-up call from my soft bed of gentle silk. Again, I lucked out by not having to share my bunk with any others, though the snoring from several walls over prevented me from experiencing much sleep.

But, as Zaunite technology is wont to do, something went wrong. I was awoken by horrified squealing from the helmsman, and suddenly, the entire vessel shook with terrible force. I was thrown from my sleep into an upright position against the wall as the zeppelin began to tip on its side. The bed, not being bolted to the floor, charged at me with the fury of an angry spouse. It struck the side of my head, and a flash of hot pain heralded the loss of consciousness.

* * *

When I awoke, I was sprawled over my bed, now a pile of splinters in the landscape. My head throbbed painfully, and when I reached up to rub it, my hand came away bloody.

Slightly more awake now, I rolled over onto my back and tried to get my bearings.

The first thing I noticed was that I was lying on a grey piece of fabric and wood in the middle of what appeared to be a jungle of sorts. Mossy trees, the likes of which I had never seen, hung low and heavy with vibrant-colored fruits. The heavy air was thick with the smell of mud and stagnant water.

The second thing I noticed was the mountain range in the distance, likely several miles away.

That was the only object large enough, from what I could see, that our zeppelin could have collided with.

The implications of this escaped me for several painful seconds as I licked my chapped, swelled lips with my leathery tongue. Then it hit me.

I had been launched several miles, and had not taken any noticeable damage. The bed, being of low-quality, could not have saved me.

If not, then what did?

_"Remember, students. I will be watching over you. You shall be safe on your journeys."_

Of course. Soraka. She had fulfilled the promise she had made at graduation, after our final briefing. Somehow, she had kept me alive throughout the collision and fall.

Not that I wasn't grateful, but did she have to launch me into the middle of what could only be the Kumungu jungle? There are plenty of ways she could have kept me alive without sending me in the exact opposite direction of where I intended to go.

Also, would she do it again? If I called out to her, would she answer?

I realized my own words and chastised myself lightly. Soraka would never abandon an Ionian in need, no matter the distance-especially one of her proteges.

I struggled upwards. My legs, fortunately, were not damaged, but I would probably need to heal myself to make sure that I had no broken anything subtle. Unfortunately, I knew that in my dehydrated, exhausted state, I could not concentrate enough to release my inner energy. I would need to find water.

With a new task in mind, I set off for the mountains. I knew that Bandle City was on the other side, so at least I was headed in the right direction. Or so I thought.

* * *

That was how I ended up waking up, two days later, with my bruised head against a tree, in the middle of the wildest, most dangerous jungle in Runeterra.

This was not how I planned this out.

Then again, I hadn't planned this out, period.

Night had passed while I had been asleep. Sunbeams shined through the cracks between the trees above, sending spears of sunlight down to earth.

I tried to lift myself, and my arms buckled underneath me, sore and aching from forty-eight hours of nonstop travel.

I was resigned to my fate. So this is how it ends. Alone, exhausted, and probably ill.

Ironic, considering my preference for forests when I had been a child. I could even recall the rivers I had meditated so clearly that the rush of water was still very present in my mind-

Water? Wait a minute...

I broke from my fatalistic reverie. But the sound of water persisted, transcending my hallucinations.

Water! It had to be near!

My aches and pains slipped away as I scrambled up, spurned on by the promise of the precious liquid. My feet flew over the heavy soil, miraculously avoiding the thick roots and vines that draped the ground and threatened to trip me.

Still energized, I burst out into a clearing, finally free from the choking, enveloping trees. My intuition had payed off.

A rocky cliff was split in half down the middle by a rushing river, emptying itself into the large, shallow pool of water, the crystal, reflective surface unbroken except for a few jutting rocks. The colors of the rainbow danced through the cascading mist-but this fog was clear and crisp, not heavy and muggy like the rest of the jungle.

This was perfect.

Without thinking, I rushed over to the edge and bent down to drink, greedily taking in my fill as the water sloshed over my chin.

At long last, refreshment! Sweet, sweet energy! I could finally-

Suddenly, two large hands collided violently with my shoulders, thrusting me forward and into the pool with an explosion of water, stopping just short of smashing my nose into the rocky bottom.

However, whoever attacked me had evidently put too much momentum into their leap, as their hands slipped over my shoulders and launched them over my head as I fell forward.

I struggled upwards, limbs slipping over the smooth rocks. A sharp corner jabbed my hand, and I hissed as a ribbon of red shot out into the water. Despite this, I still managed to get myself upright. My tightly-clad red robes, cut off at the elbow and knee, were sopping wet as my short brown hair drooped over my eyebrows. I whipped my head to the side, and it swung out of the way, finally able to behold my assailant.

White stripes clashed against her chocolate skin and clung to her thighs and shoulders, cheeks, and stomach, with more of the same markings spread out across her body.

Cuffs of brown fur, slightly darker than her own skin tone, formed gauntlets and ankle straps. A triangular piece of leopard fur rested on her hips and fell over the area between her thighs, thinning out at her waist and widening into a square behind her back, with chipped, curved fangs running the edge of her 'belt'. A length of lighter hair was draped over her shoulders, over her chest, and circled around behind her back. Another rectangle of dark fur went across her breasts and behind her back, following the lighter ringlet of hair.

Raven-colored hair was up over her head by a length of vine, spilling out into a shoulder-length ponytail as some cascaded over her ears and onto her neck, curling as it got further away from the head. As the wind shook, two silver claws could be seen hanging from her ears in a makeshift piercing.

A string of reed secured a claw necklace around her neck, all the more visible by the defiant tilt of her chin as the cords of her neck tightened. Two white stripes curling up towards her nose brought attention to her amber eyes, glaring daggers at me as her brow furrowed in anger.

Her nose was pointed prettily, sharp-yet somehow still soft in its curve. Her lengthy, dark lashes stood up straight with her unblinking gaze, along the set line of her jaw and cheek bones.

A tiny green object-whether it was a gem, dye, or drop of sap-lay in the center of her creased forehead.

Little was left to the imagination-even the few pieces intended to cover her were quite exposing. The curve of her milky thigh was clearly visible at the meeting point of the triangular and square sections of clothing. The faintest hint of the full, round underside of her breasts were visible at the bottom of the strip of fur, and a small dip of cleavage could be seen above it.

However, unlike Soraka, her body held no gentleness or delicateness. The (delicious) curves of her chest and hips, as well as the silky skin of her thighs and stomach, were offset by her aggressive, crouched posture, glaring eyes, and visibly tight cords of muscle crisscrossing along her limbs.

She radiated intense, fierce, rebellious beauty. And I was now her target.

I didn't know whether that was a great thing or a really, really, _really_ bad thing.

She hissed violently, baring her pearly teeth and sharpened fangs to me. The noise seemed to transcend human vocal range, sounding more like a cat than a human hiss.

Almost _too_ much like a cat.

Before I could ponder this phenomenon, she was upon me. Out of the water she flew, launching herself out of the knee-deep liquid with all four limbs as her nails, filed and nurtured into claws (yet still quite free of dirt and mud), reached out toward me.

More out of luck than skill, I stepped into her leap, grabbing her wrist as she flew by and heaving it over my shoulder. The maneuver used her own momentum against her, and sent her sailing over my head with a confused yowl.

She moved too quickly for me to determine what exactly happened, but evidently, she had flipped in midair, as the brown blur of her body landed safely on all fours, small skid marks in the dirt the only signs of her flight.

Without the slightest hint of effort, besides a rough grunt, she was in the air again, taking the exact same offensive position.

This time, however, she aimed lower, arms reaching out for my waist instead of my neck. My shoulder-toss initiating grab clutched at empty air as her right shoulder collided violently with my stomach, knocking the ind out of me with a painful _whoosh_ as her arms locked around my ribcage, claws digging painfully into my sides.

I skidded backward, falling into the pool again with the force of her launch. However, as I fell backward, I thrust my knees against her stomach, eliciting a grunt from her as she released her grip to avoid crushing her fingers under the water.

I attempted to pull myself upwards to defend from her next assault, but once again, my hair fell over my eyes, blocking my vision.

I managed to swing it out of the way just in time to see her left hand come swinging for me, her ponytail whipping behind her, but I was too dazed to react.

I felt the nails come in contact with the flesh of my shoulder, tearing effortlessly through the fabric and scoring three hot trails in my skin that tapered off as her nails exited by the crook of my neck. I stumbled backward, clutching my burning skin as she came for me again with another swipe of her right hand.

I snapped my hand up and grabbed her wrist out of the air, just below her cuffs. Before I could think about what I was doing, I snatched the other incoming hand out of the air, leaving my aching shoulder unattended.

Her eyes flashed with rage as she snapped with her teeth, barely missing my forearm with her canines.

Without considering my actions, I spun to my left, allowing her weight to carry my twirl as water flew outward from our spinning forms.

Her incessant attacks continued, and she finally managed to catch my right wrist in her teeth, my own movement causing her to tear the rectangular chunk of skin clean out.

I howled in pain, both of my hands releasing her as they rushed to tend to my arm.

Yowling in surprise, she rolled away from me, half-in, half-out of the water, struggling wildly. In her thrashing, she managed to hook a claw in the fabric of the shoulder of my shirt. I shifted from clutching my wrist with my left hand to spinning behind her, my forehead crunching painfully against the bottom of the pool as water shot up my nose, inspiring a spontaneous bout of nausea.

I continued to roll, feeling her claws still clutching stubbornly onto my form.

Suddenly, I felt her claw shoot up wildly, releasing its grip on me as it tore out a length of fabric. Before I could righten myself and stop my rolling, my thigh struck a flat platform of stone, causing me to spin in a corkscrew fashion before landing, back first, on hard, dry rock.

My head swam, the combination of the constant spinning and the water thrust up my sinuses inducing a sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach. I opened my eyes.

My groggy vision was able to make out few details of my environment. I was lying on a smooth rock floor, water running down in rivulets, spilling out into a small pool of water at the mouth of what appeared to be some sort of small cave. The ceiling was several body lengths above me, and I could feel the top of my head bumping against the back wall.

This had to be directly behind the waterfall, as evident by the sheet of mist beyond the mouth of the cave. Sunbeams flashed through the wall of liquid every few seconds, striking yellows stripes across the gray cave.

And then I noticed _her_.

Her brown thighs pinned my legs down, halting movement below my knees. Her arms were fastened around my wrists now, rubbing painfully against my fresh wound. The vine that secured her hair up in the ponytail had, somehow, stayed in placed, but her black hair hung heavy, dripping with a torrent of water.

Her amber eyes still glared fiercely at me, burning through both the darkness of the cave and the gentle light from the outside world.

Satisfied that I was unable to move, she shook her head fiercely, scattering droplets everywhere. For a brief second, the twin orbs of her eyes were closed, but returned just as quickly.

The fur clothing, even her claw necklaces and belt, had stayed on and were relatively unscathed and dry. Obviously, they were stronger than they had appeared.

Her mouth opened, and I could make out the obvious gleam of teeth, ready to sink into my throat and crush my esophagus.

Well, at least this was a great way to go.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the pressure to close around me.

It never came.

I sit there, lying on my back awkwardly as I waited for death. When nothing happened, I allowed a crack to appear in my vision.

Her shoulders heaved and her nostrils flared as she breathed audibly, the hiss of entering and escaping air audible to my ears. She met my blank stare with a bold glare of her own, her breathing continuing, perhaps even getting deeper as it echoed against the stone walls.

I was utterly baffled. What was she doing? She had me at her mercy. Why wasn't she-

Without warning, she flew forward, snatching me up in a sudden kiss.

The first thing that came to mind was the sudden barrage of sensations that bombarded my lips-she tasted of wild, exotic berries whose names eluded me.

The second was _runrunrunrunrun she's going to tear your throat out you idiot_.

My eyes widen as I move my mouth away, trying to break contact.

Sensing my struggle, a growl builds up in her throat, low and dangerous. Her amber eyes narrow to tiny slits, and I feel the sting of teeth biting my lower lip. I taste copper, and a tiny trickle of blood runs down my cheek.

Before I could react, I feel cold claws on my chest, and my throat catches.

I was absolutely certain that my heart was about to exit my body in a most violent, non-romantic manner. So much for the kiss.

Then I heard a tearing sound as lines of cold pain scored my pelvis and I felt a breeze much, _much_ lower down.

The lower half of my robe was slightly torn, with a few claw marks in the fabric. And "I" was visible to the world, hanging freely.

So she was going to castrate me before I died.

I want to find the person who invented the idea of removing genitals, and kick them where it hurts. Hard.

But no time to think about anything other than my painful fate.

I felt rough fingers brush my limply hanging unit, and her fangs dug even deeper into my lower lip.

This was it.

The fingers curled around me, cupping the base in her palm.

I tensed, waiting for the explosion of pain.

And then the grip around me tightened slightly, and a finger nudged at a testicle.

A tiny gasp escape me, and the lips locked against mine curl into a barely perceptible grin.

Before I can react, her hand jerk upwards, sliding easily against my soaked member. Her right thumb rolls about the head, nudging it about as her index cradles the base of the tip in a surprisingly gentle embrace.

I cringe, tightening my neck as she pokes and prods at my most precious asset.

The delicate actions pushes all the right buttons, sending tiny sparks up from the source of her ministrations up my stomach, turning my legs to jelly with her tiny flicks and touches. I've never felt anything like this before, and my body isn't ready for it.

Her hand lowers, pulling the tip back as it goes, stretching the skin wonderfully. Suddenly, her hand shoots back up, a jolt of pleasure accompanying the sudden action as I cannot help but moan around her mouth.

She finally releases my mouth from hers, backing away with a cruel grin plastered over her features. Resting her thighs on my knees, she bent forward, ponytail flopping lazily over her chocolate shoulder, and placed both hands on top of each other on my member, interlacing the fingers.

Not staying to fiddle with the tip again, her hands lowered again, albeit at a less painful speed.

I'd like to say that I was too shocked to react, unable to overcome the shock that this woman-whose name was a mystery to me, and who had just finished trying to kill me-was, right now, pleasuring me in ways I had never imagined possible with her hand. That I was helpless under her influence, unable to resist the hot, sticky musk rolling off of her in waves.

Truth be told, I was in complete control of myself. And I was loving every minute of this.

Her hands continued to glide up and down, never ceasing their rhythm as she silently-minus the occasional growl when I tried to move-continued with her bliss-inducing actions.

The sudden sparks of pleasure had faded, replaced by a steady buzz of positive feedback from my unit as no new sources of stimulation were triggered by her roving, thorough, yet still gentle hands. They darted into every crease, every fold of my testicles, and my body responded in kind. I struggled not to moan at her exploration.

Her wandering fingers cupped my sack in her palms, gently rolling my twin orbs in her hand, one over another. Occasionally, she would squeeze one ever so slightly in her brown palm, the tiny spike of pressure provoking a jolt of fear in my stomach until she released the ball, the tight sensation blossoming outwards into bliss as the mark left by her grip fell away.

I closed my eyes, caught up in the bliss, when her warm grip suddenly escaped me. I cracked open an eyelid to see her lifting her left hand up from my pelvis and disappear behind her back.

Abandoning my pretended rest, I opened my mouth to speak up, but she must have heard-or otherwise felt-my impending speech. Her hands darted down in a brown blur, and I felt prickling in the skin protecting my lungs. Two warm tracts of liquid indicated that her warning had drawn blood.

I gulped heavily, feeling the pulse of muscle slide down my throat.

Obviously, I wasn't in the clear yet. She wasn't going to let me protest or escape anytime soon...not that I had any intention or wish to do so.

Much as I would like to admit otherwise, I really, _really_ didn't want her to stop. If that meant shutting up, then so be it.

With a grunt, she leaned forward, brandished a claw, and sliced through the vine bindings on her clothing with frightening speed. In another instant, the torn clothing was tossed aside without a hint of effort.

Her widely rounded nipples caught the fur as it was flung off her, and her breasts swayed as they were exposed to me

Finally free from their constraints, they popped forward and swung, the faintest tip of the perked nipple catching the bridge of my nose.

The absolute blackness of the twin points faded into the dark brown circles of her areola, before finally disappearing into her delicious breasts, their fullness lending her chest significant curve as they hung forward, victims of gravity once again. Tiny clear droplets of sweat dotted her flesh.

I longed to bury my face in the welcoming flesh, to nip and lick at every patch of her mammaries- but I knew that trying was a useless proposition. She'd just hurt me again.

She must have sensed my resignation to her whims, for the grip on my sides loosened slightly. She slowly moved her hands away from my sides, giving her fingers a quick lick. I could make out the faint flash of red before it disappeared between her lips-nor did the ecstatic gleam that flashed across her eyes elude me.

I gasped, suddenly realizing that I had been unable to breath, and was just now inhaling for the first time in what felt like a great while.

I didn't realize just how deprived of oxygen I had become-my chest heaved in huge gulps of air, and I was forced to close my eyes painfully shut to cough.

So focused was I on refilling my lungs that I failed to notice what she was doing.

Before I could react, my member was suddenly surrounded by wet, enveloping tightness, and the blood drained from my face, my previous conditioning gone as the full extent of what I had gone along with hit me.

What had I gotten myself into? Why was I _doing_ this?

...And then I opened my eyes, and beheld _her_.

The way her fingers quivered over my pelvis, gliding across my soaking skin before coming to a rest on my arms.

The miniscule lip bite, her canine flashing through her top lip.

The slight bulge of my entry by the tiny patch of black hair on her pubis.

The tiny trickle of clear white fluid peeking out from the opening.

And I knew I was lost to her.

There was no gentle grinding or rocking. This was no soft melding of two souls, as we had been taught-and experienced-in the temples.

This was, quite possibly, the exact opposite.

The instant she saw my eyes open, she growled and slammed downward again, knocking the wind out of me with the force of her sudden lift and fall, while still prompting a bolt of pleasure to arc up my body from my pelvis.

Her hands, lithe, strong, and muscular, held me down by the pits of my elbows while her claws dug deep furrows into the skin of my arm, blood running in four warm tracks and pooling onto the stone.

But I failed to comprehend this agony, so engulfed was I by sheer bliss. I bucked my hips futilely along with her increasingly fast riding, trying vainly to delve deeper into the wondrous opening.

Her inner walls collapsed upon themselves and re-opened each time she lifted and lowered herself, retaining the incredible, suffocating tightness that threatened to cut blood off from my member while simultaneously prompting increased blood flow to that area.

My breath escaped in great gasps and gulps, clouding the air before me in heavy mist-when I could catch a breath. Between my own attempts at thrusting, and constant, pleasurable pounding on my stomach, sucking in air was a difficult proposition.

My hazy, oxygen-starved and pleasure-drugged mind vaguely made out an increasing pace in her riding, her verbalized grunts beginning to increase in tempo and volume along with the speed and severity of her thrusts as her cheeks slapped against my thighs loudly.

A familiar pressure began to spring up in my loins, blossoming under the rough care of her constricting opening and violent actions. I tried, weakly, to verbalize a warning, something, anything-but each time I tried to speak up, I was drowned out by a moan from myself or a growl from my partner.

Pinned completely, unable to move, I could only watch as her thighs and inner walls clenching against me painfully as she tipped her head back, tossing her hair and closing her piercing eyes, and cried out with a feline howl, echoing throughout and beyond our shelter. A flash of fluids trickled out onto my skin and lower pelvis, pushing me over the edge.

I exploded, vision going white as I lost the ability to breathe, hear, or sense anything other than my own climax. Feeling the fluid course up through my system and exit into her waiting, welcoming cavern, I ignored the painful pounding in my head as my body struggled to cope with this flood of sensations. while healing the ever-increasing number of cuts in my skin and muscles.

My member, buried to the absolute deepest it would go, twitched furiously as ropes of fluid coated the walls tightened around me, before falling backwards and exiting in a furious wave of liquid out the tiny space between our bodies. All the while, she continued to howl and clench around me, convulsing maddeningly around my unit until our climaxes finally stopped.

We stood stock-still, backs arched, eyes closed, teeth clenched, the only sounds being the waterfall and our own heavy breathing.

With a great sigh, she fell forward onto my chest, with me still inside her, cutting off my breathing with the weight of her heavy form. I gasped, faint senses swimming as I tried to lift her off of me.

And then there was darkness, with only the whistle of her breath and the rush of water carrying me to my rest.

* * *

I awoke with a start, lying on my back in the exact same position I had been when I left.

She was gone, as were her clothes. My own had been removed, lying in a heap, directly to my side. Most of the tears had been sewn back together with small leather strips-a brown clashing glaringly against the green. The only marker of our time together were the incisions in my side-I had been washed clean of our fluids.

I struggled upwards, then collapsed, leg asleep from lack of use. My knee cracked painfully against the stone-but I guessed it would only bruise.

Putting my clothes on was a quick, rushed affair, as was sliding careful down past the waterfall, taking care to not to fall in.

The sharp, clear jungle air greeted me, a respite from the cloying heat of the cave. I knew that the cleanliness wouldn't last-soon, I would be back in the muggy trees. But at least I could have some more time for respite before I traveled on my way.

As I began to prepare to leave, another faint, feline growl reached my ears, followed by another whine. Through the mass of green vines and trees, I could vaguely make out two brown forms, rolling and thrusting against each other-cougars.

A small smile crossed my features as I stepped away from the scene, taking care not to alert the amorous couple.

It smelled like mating season.

* * *

_That was HARD. Dammit Waddle, how can you DO this?_

_Props to Waddlebuff and Cerallius for their support, feedback, and ideas._

_Please review-your feedback helps me improve, and I love knowing that people are reading my stories._

_See you next time!_


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